Bars on The Windows
by darkmark111
Summary: You think you know me, but you don't. No one ever truly will. But I know you, you ugly git, and there's nothing you can do about it. oneshot


Bars on the Windows

Summary: If you think you know Bellatrix, think again. You'll never know her. Never, in your entire existence, can you truly know her. But she knows all about you, and there's nothing you can ever do about it (This is a 'you' story).

You walk through the door, looking shadowy. Yes, that's just what you are, shadowy, aren't you shadowy? No, how dare you agree with me, you nasty little liar! I'll show you shadowy. You don't know shadows, and you don't know me.

I can go places in my own head you never thought of. My mind is a black cell, my eyes are the windows, barred from the inside, and it's more to keep you out than keep me in. I'm perfectly fine, you're raving, spitting mad, you damned lunatic. I'll show you lunacy. You don't know lunacy. I am Lunacy, it's my name, it's all that I stand for. You are Weak. Mr. Weak, Sir Weak, Doctor Weak, Professor Weak. Just WEAK.

You scribble on your parchment, not daring to look at me. Smart choice, I think. But then again, why won't you look at me, you horrible sack of bubotuber puss? Are you scared? Good, that's the way I want it, you idiotic git. But I'm still beautiful, and you can't have me. You'll want me, but I'll simply look away and happen to fall into another boy's arms, and you'll be so stricken that you'll have slit your wrists by supper. Foolish little boy you are.

You're just another punk, aren't you? You're one of those horrible little juvenile delinquents who write naughty words on gravestones, wear black all the time and steal Knuts from children. You swine. I hope you burn in hell. You are a demon. In fact, Hell isn't even horrible enough for you. I wish you didn't even exist, and as you were not existing, I wish you would realize you did not exist. Ha, that would set you straight. I'd be a good laugh, too.

I am superior to you. I'll never be like you, and you'll never be like me. You are repulsive and wretched. I am a goddess that you may never touch. You cannot even look into my eyes; I don't want to see what filth lies behind yours.

I bet you wish you were me, though, even though you are a boy. You are sixteen, but you will never be a man. You will always be juvenile, infantile all your life. You'll be the sad ending to some novelist's tale about a boy who wasn't good enough for Bellatrix Black. You will always be sad, and you will die alone, probably of your own accord. I don't pity you, I despise you and everything you stand for.

I'm shutting my eyes now, closing the curtains over the barred windows in the cell that happens to be in my head, and I'm going through my file cabinet of memories, which I rarely ever do. I find a folder called 'Snape'. I open it and I began to read about the times when I saw you through the windows.

It was last year, and we were Potions partners. I didn't care. I never cared much for greasy gits like yourself. I hoped you make a mistake and end up getting your hand charred black by the Bunsen burner, but I had no such luck. You, on the other hand, had bountiful amounts. You bastard. I hated you then and I hate you now.

You did every single thing right. Not one wrong stir, not one pinch too much of seasalt. You horrible brat, you were perfect. And I was nothing next to you. But I was superior. It was an act you put on, a show, always the favorite in Potions class. You were fake, and you still are. I'm real. You're living in your own greasy world, aren't you? You pitiful creature. But I don't pity you, because I hate you.

And again last year, when fall had passed and everything was dying, when in my view everything in the world was right, you ruined it. You pushed me with a feather and I fell like a rock, I was so incredibly stupid for you. You bewitched me, I think. Used some illegal curse. I wouldn't be at all surprised! I spit at you, Severus Snape.

You tasted of herbs, you horrible piece of filth. Your hands were soft. Monster. You were the love of my life, and I hated you. I hated you. I hated you. I hated you.

And then the walls fell when SHE walked by, as if SHE was queen, yes I would have _loved_ to make a crown for HER, and I would have made it out of owl droppings, because that was about all SHE was worth, owl droppings! Prancing around on HER high horse, acting as though SHE was better than us. SHE was no better than spit. _I_ was the goddess, everyone should have loved me…….damnable Evans girl...

I lift up my sleeve very slowly, admiring the clean work the blade does to me, lifting me to the ceiling again and again so I can watch myself take the fall...you don't know what that is like, it's ecstasy, the blood...the welts...the bruising...my own father's results never compared to mine, I am the master, the goddess of pain, and I'm down proud...that's why you left me, isn't it?

The walls are falling now, the walls in my head. The bars of being lifted off the windows, and I drop Snape's folder and scurry out. I'm free, aren't I? In a way, I'm free. I'm running away, a miniscule version of myself, across the plush green carpet and back under my bed, where it's cool and dark lying with my cheek against the stone.

Screams float distantly out from the common room where I lie, like music. And the music is so beautiful if feels as though my ears are surely bleeding. I love it, but it's frightening, and it's so beautiful, turn up the volume. Make it silent, you know I hate that song.

Stupid people. They'll never understand me.


End file.
